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"I have a great doubt," Ian sighed when Alinor finally lifted herself off him and lay at his side, "that I have done less in this manner than if you had let me mount you." He laughed softly. "In fact, I know the contrary. You have more ways of raising a fever, Alinor As God is my witness, I did not sweat in this day's battle as I did tonight abed." |
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"Perhaps that is true," Alinor giggled, "but at least you did not tear loose any stitches, as you would have done had you played your usual part. Sleep is a quick and easy mending for weariness." |
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Ian glanced down at her, but he could see only the glossy black hair on the top of her head. He did not like her insistence on sleep. Her voice was not revealing, either. The low tone and slight breathlessness might be a natural result of their coupling, but they also might be produced by a struggle with tears. |
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"But I am now very hungry," Ian said rather plaintively. "You offered me food before. Now I need it worse." |
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Alinor chuckled again and rolled out of the bed. Ian pushed himself upright and watched her, but he could see nothing in her expression that conflicted with her laughter. When she handed him the wooden platter of bread and meat, however, she raised her brows. |
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"Have I not reason enough? You are a sight to delight the eyes, clothed as you are in nothing but your hair." |
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